


Show Me A Story

by JWood201



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Aging Parent, F/M, Gen, Mama Deanna, Multi-generational, Pre-Picard AU, Snoring Dad Riker, Telepathy, it's been four days y'all are sleeping on the lake house fics, lake house, written pre-Picard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 19:15:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20971661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JWood201/pseuds/JWood201
Summary: Kestra Troi-Riker learns how she got her name.Written pre-Picard. AU.





	Show Me A Story

**Author's Note:**

> \- We have a working theory (it's very complicated, but it works) that "Dahj" is actually Will and Deanna's older daughter who was taken somehow as a young child. How do you choose to go on with your life, to have another child? How does this affect everyone?
> 
> \- This can't be in the same universe as my story "Tannin Of The Mind," obviously, but I'm using the same character names because I'm the worst.
> 
> \- If Deanna is living in her bad-ass lake house (in Alaska? on Betazed?), does that mean Lwaxana is still alive running the Fifth House? How old is she? Where is she? Is Betazoid society falling apart without her? (Probably).
> 
> \- The name Kestra is on the Picard cast list on the Internet Movie Database and it's obvious that she's the voice calling for her dad in the trailer. She's played by a talented young actor - who turned fourteen this week.

She turns off her bedroom light before she opens the door, slowly, carefully holding on to the doorknob so the latch doesn’t scrape against the plate. She slips into the hall, toes curling into the carpet, and peers over the railing down into the house. Stillness. Night and silence.

She cocks her head and listens. Wind in the trees outside. That one branch brushing against the side of the house. Frogs croaking in the lake that she’s not allowed to go swimming in by herself.

Moonlight streams in through the large windows. It’s low and bright tonight. The light breaks around the heavy wooden beams on the ceiling, shattering shadows across the walls.

When she’s certain she’s alone, she releases the railing and turns down the hall. Her parents’ bedroom door is ajar, warm light shooting across the hall carpet in a sharp beam. She pauses and leans forward, trying to peer around the doorjamb without being seen.

Her mother is sitting up in bed, an ancient hardback book in one hand, small with gold swirly designs and brown binding. _Keats’s Odes._ The mountain next to her rumbles and she pats its arm gently. 

The girl is about to hop past the doorway when her father’s snore thunders through the house so loudly that she almost loses her balance. Her mother picks up a pillow and hits him over the head with it, eyes never leaving the page. He snorts and grumbles and somehow doesn’t wake up.

His breathing quiets and the girl leaps past the open door in one giant step.

_Kestra?_

She freezes, teetering on one foot, and realizes that she forgot to clear her mind. Stupid. 

She peers over her shoulder. Her mother hasn’t looked up from her book, the fingers of her other hand idly scratching her husband’s beard. They feel the early rumblings of another massive snore and she nudges him with her knee. The snore dies in his throat and he rolls over away from her. She pats his bottom like a baby and turns the page in her book.

Kestra listens, but hears nothing else. There’s only a sense of love, but tinged with sadness. She’s not in trouble. She scurries down the hall and slips into the last room, closing the door softly behind her.

Kestra moves to the window and pushes it open. The stars are bright and a warm breeze flutters the curtains. She sticks her head out into the night and inhales – trees and grass and the burnt remains of the fire her father cooked their dinner over like a cowboy from the ancient west.

Movement behind her pulls her from the window. The room’s occupant is looking at her from the bed, one arm extended toward her, moonlight glinting off of the rings she insists on still wearing. Kestra climbs up onto the edge of the bed and takes her grandmother’s hand. “Hi, Xanny.”

An image flows into Kestra’s mind – wrapped boxes, elaborate Betazoid desserts, party hats, a cake with fourteen candles. She smiles. “Thanks.” Lwaxana squeezes her hand and a sudden sadness floats around her ears, regret rising up around her chest. Kestra shakes her head and shakes the feelings off. “It’s okay. You were there for a long time.”

Lwaxana turns to stare at the ceiling. Every week she has a little less strength. Her body is failing her, but her mind is still painfully sharp, her telepathy and her empathy more potent than ever to compensate. She doesn’t want to start replacing parts as if she’s an old starship. No augmentations, alternatives or substitutions. Betazoids prefer truth and honesty in everything.

Earlier that evening she rallied and joined them outside for Kestra’s birthday dinner. She lasted longer than anyone thought she would, laughing and eating more than usual, but she eventually grew tired and Will had to carry her back up to her room. A once majestic force of nature shrinking before them.

But her _mind_. Her mind is an impenetrable fortress.

“Xanny.” She turns and meets her granddaughter’s gaze, black on black. “Show me a story.” Lwaxana’s eyes light up and she smiles. Kestra tucks her legs beneath her and cradles the delicate hand between both of hers – warm, but thin, the Holy Rings that she knows will one day be her responsibility pressing into her palms.

They both close their eyes and a torrent of sensations floods Kestra’s mind. She smells the clinical cleanliness of the _U.S.S. Titan_’s sickbay, hears the faint rhythmic beeping of medical displays, feels the warmth of the blankets. She sees her mother propped up on a biobed.

Deanna watches the door, a smirk playing at the edge of her lips. _Come in, Mother._

Lwaxana peeks around the doorway and grins. “Hello, Little One,” she whispers and Deanna laughs.

“You can talk out loud. Or in your heard, or whatever.” She looks down at the bundle in her arms. “She’s awake.”

Lwaxana approaches and stands at the edge of the bed impatiently, twisting the rings on her fingers. Deanna laughs again and scoots over. “Come on.” Lwaxana gathers her skirts and hoists herself up onto the bed next to her daughter. She kicks off her shoes and stretches her legs out in front of her. Deanna gently passes the bundle over. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too.” Lwaxana arranges the baby in her arms and begins running through her repertoire of silly faces.

“You know, Mother, when you want to be, you can be an incredibly calming presence.”

Lwaxana accepts the compliment, but dismisses the other implications and Deanna grins. “Well, these Starfleet doctors just don’t understand the specifics of Betazoid births.” Lwaxana rolls her eyes dramatically toward the door of Deanna’s room, out toward the CMO’s office.

The baby raises a tiny arm, flailing toward one of Lwaxana’s shiny swinging earrings. “She likes you.”

Lwaxana smiles, her voice rising and falling in an elaborate sing-song. “Of course she does! She knows I’ll spoil her rotten.” She lets the baby think she caught one of her earrings, then pulls away and kisses her on the forehead. “This took great courage, Deanna. To do this after what happened.”

Deanna frowns. “Yeah.” She finds a tiny foot and runs her fingers over the soft skin. “I’m glad we did, though.”

“If I didn’t already have you when my Kestra died, I think I would have completely given up.” The baby has grabbed one of Lwaxana’s fingers and she gasps in feigned surprise. “Your father wanted to have another baby, but I said no.” She looks up at her daughter. “I was weak.”

“No, you weren’t. You were scared," she says as she wraps the little foot back in its blanket. “So am I. But I understand why you repressed your memories. It was so tempting. Thank you for not letting me do it.” Deanna looks up at her mother and a slow smile spreads across her face. “You were right.”

Lwaxana shrugs nonchalantly. “Naturally.” She smirks and turns to the baby. “You’re my witness, darling. She’ll never say that again.”

“I’m serious. It wouldn’t have been fair to me, or Will, or you. Or Eliza.”

“I didn’t let anyone talk about your sister. And eventually no one remembered her.” Lwaxana sighs. “I did that to her. I killed her twice.”

"Mother, no, you --."

“Uh oh!” Lwaxana trills as the baby’s bottom lip pops out and her face scrunches dangerously. Deanna reaches for her, but Lwaxana catches her hand to stop her.

Lwaxana closes her eyes and goes very still, clutching Deanna’s hand and the baby to her chest. She fills the room with her love, her regret, her strength. It spills from the cracks in her heart and from the folds of her soul. She shapes it into a bubble around them, a cloud, a fortress.

The baby calms and closes her eyes, turning her face toward her grandmother. Deanna relaxes into her pillow and lays her head on her mother’s shoulder. “I’m so tired.”

_Go to sleep, Little Ones. I’ll stay here._

“Mother?” she murmurs, eyes drifting closed.

_Hmm?_

_We picked a name._

Lwaxana turns and kisses the top of her head. _Tell me._

_Kestra._ She feels her mother stop breathing for a moment. _So we won’t forget either of them._

Lwaxana closes her eyes and her heart fills. The baby sighs. Deanna settles into her mother’s side and wraps her arms around her.

The images dissolve and Kestra opens her eyes. Her grandmother is watching her from her pillow. Her dark eyes sparkle in the moonlight. Kestra releases her hand and crawls up the bed to kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you, Xanny. I love you.”

Lwaxana slowly reaches up to cup her cheek in her palm. “I love you more,” she whispers.

In the hallway, her parents’ bedroom door is still ajar, but the light is off. Kestra stops when she hears whispering instead of snoring. She can’t make out the words, but her mother’s sadness washes over her like a rising tide. The door opens and Kestra flattens herself against the wall. Her mother emerges, her pillow under one arm. She doesn’t say anything, but drops a kiss onto Kestra’s forehead as she passes. She continues down the hall and disappears into Lwaxana’s room.

Kestra turns to go back to her room, but an image suddenly flashes in her mind. This night fourteen years ago. Her grandmother, her mother, and her, tangled together on the bed in the _Titan_’s sickbay.

Kestra quickly follows her mother and slips into bed beside Lwaxana. She reaches across her and finds her mother's hand. 

_Go to sleep, Mother. We’ll stay here._

They wrap her in their arms and their love and in the morning she’s a little bit stronger than the day before.

**Author's Note:**

> The last line originally read, "and in the morning she's gone," but I couldn't do that to Kestra on her birthday. Or to myself on any day.


End file.
